Spring Break - Left Behind: a Spring Breakers Short Story by Olivia Hawthorne & Flirt Club

Author:Olivia Hawthorne & Flirt Club [Hawthorne, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hawthorne Publishing
Published: 2019-04-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

We decided I'd better keep Maggie the pug at my place so Denise didn't just break in and steal her again.

But we spent the night at his place when we got back from our dog-napping.

Maggie was obviously thrilled to be reunited with him. That's what clinched it for me that he was the real deal. She wiggled her little pug butt around until she fell over from sheer delight.

And he was hilarious, such a big, bad, tattooed rough guy almost moved to tears holding his little Maggie May in his arms again.

Ridiculous.

But I love every minute of it.

Until we started making out on the couch and Maggie flopped down beside us. And made us run for cover to the bed with the stinkiest farts.

Barrett's place was truly an artist's loft.

He had the top floor of a converted warehouse, it was set up as a living space combined with a studio.

The living space was open, the tall ceilings gave it an airy feel and the only dividers were moveable walls between the bedroom and the living room. The bathroom was completely closed in though, thank god, I wasn't ready to pee in front of him.

There was a brick wall half the height of the ceiling that divided the living space from the studio, and as much as I wanted to see more of his art, I wanted to get him into bed even more.

The art could wait until tomorrow, I had needs tonight that couldn't wait.

Maggie May slept soundly on the couch as we got up, Barrett scooped me into his arms and made me giggle like mad.

"You're insane, you can't keep carrying me everywhere," I said.

"Why not?" he asked with a grin and a kiss.

"I don't know..." I replied but had no good reason for him to not become my personal Uber. "Actually, good point. I think there is no reason to not carry me."

"Then it's settled," he laughed and strode to his bed. He tossed me into it and dove on top, kissed and nibbling at me until I was gasping and out of breath from giggling and the passion.

"Stop," I giggled and squirmed underneath him. "Stop!"

He did, he looked straight into my eyes and said, "Are you sure you want me to stop?"

"God no!" I exclaimed. "I didn't expect that you'd actually listen to me!"

"Good," he growled and nuzzled at my neck. "I don't think I can at this point."

We tore at each other's clothing and were naked and under his blankets in no time.

And I learned again why he was called the beast.

And I realized there was something to the idea that Barrett Whitaker's beast was addictive.

Because at that moment I knew I'd never get enough, no matter how many times I felt him slide it inside of me.

And after we were finished and we lay exhausted in each other's arms, we started to drift off into sleep and I realized I wanted more.

The startling revelation made my heard double flip, but I had to face it.

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